


Don't Let Me Go

by trappednightingale



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Background Roman Reigns, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Raw 10/08/2018, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-03 07:03:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trappednightingale/pseuds/trappednightingale
Summary: Dean hasn't been the same since he came back, and Seth wants answers. Whether or not he's prepared for those answers is a completely different story.Takes place after the October 8 (2018) episode of Raw.





	1. where do we go when we walk on light

It felt like Dean had barely spoken to Seth in the time he’d been back. Sure, he’d cut promos, interacted with him when the cameras were rolling, but behind the scenes… nothing. 

Seth wanted answers. Wanted to know where Dean had disappeared to for nine months, wanted to know why he stopped responding to texts a month into his injury, wanted to know why the first time Seth heard from him in over eight months was a text saying simply ‘heard you need some help. see u at the airport.’

It was driving Seth crazy, and the events of Monday night made things no better.

“He won’t answer my texts.” Roman sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah, mine either.” Seth lied. Truth be told, he hadn’t so much as tried. He knew a brush-off when he saw one, and Dean walking out on them after their match was a clearer signal than if Dean had hung a giant ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign around his neck. 

“Seth, I’m worried about him. We’ve gotta… we’ve gotta try, right? Don’t we owe that to him?”

“Maybe he’s done trying, Rome. What are we supposed to do?”

“We do the same thing we’ve always done. We fight, and we don’t stop.”

“Don’t think this is a situation we can Superman punch our way out of, man.” Seth just sighed. “But… I’ll call him. You’ve got a plane to catch, I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

Roman looked torn, and Seth knew that if it were any other time, if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t seen his daughter in over a month, hadn’t been home in even longer, Roman would be staying. But he’d gotten into this business for his family, and Seth couldn’t fault him for choosing them. Not when it was something he and even Dean, at times, admired about Roman.

“Go on, give em my love.” Seth patted Roman on the shoulder before giving him a light shove. He knew it wasn’t really enough to move Roman, but he appreciated the way Roman let out a dramatic ‘oof’ and slumped to the side.

“Call him. Stalk him if you’ve gotta. Just… bring him home, yeah?” Roman asked with a sigh, pushing to his feet and hefting his bag over his shoulder. 

Seth just nodded in response, not sure of what to say, of how to reassure Roman that he’d try. So he simply gave an awkward salute, waiting until Roman had left their shared locker room before staring down at the phone in his hands. He let out a breath before typing in the familiar number, unchanged even after all these years. Surprising absolutely no one, he didn’t answer. 

But the call didn’t go straight to voicemail, which Seth took as a good sign. That meant the phone was on, which Seth could work with. It wasn’t that long after Raw, meaning he couldn’t have gotten too far, which was all the hope Seth needed to pull up the ‘find my iphone’ app on his phone.

He’d bullied Dean into getting an iPhone before his injury, while they were still tag champs, and it was something the other had never forgiven him for. Seth was grateful for it now, though, and even more grateful that Dean never seemed to get a grasp on how the thing worked; especially considering that the original email and password Seth had used to set up the phone in the first place still worked. He only had a moment of worry, of waiting for the app to log him in before finally, finally it worked and a little dot appeared on his screen showing where Dean’s phone had last been located. It wasn’t far from the arena, but it wasn’t anywhere near their hotel, either, and Seth let out a sigh.

It was going to be a long night.


	2. who do we call at the edge of night

Dean’s phone’s last known location turned out to be a shitty motel several blocks down from the arena. Seth was already pretty wiped from that night’s match, and walking that distance while trying to combat the worry that was steadily growing in his mind did nothing to improve his energy levels. By the time he arrived, he was more than a little grouchy. So, he marched up to the front auditor, a bored-looking woman in her twenties, and slammed his hand down next to where her feet were propped up on the desk.

“Listen. I’ve had a really shitty night, and I need to know the room number of the guy who just checked in here.”

She just raised an eyebrow at him, popping her gum as she kicked her legs down. “Listen. I’ve had a pretty chill night. I don’t care what you need to know, and I honestly couldn’t tell you what room I checked the guy in to.”

“You… you don’t have any idea. Like even the slightest clue? Don’t you have… records of that shit?” Seth asked incredulously.

Whatever the woman was about to say was cut off by the sound of a loud crash. She immediately kicked her legs back up and pulled her phone out of her pocket, making a waving motion with her hand.

“I’d say it was in that general direction. They don’t pay me enough to check this shit out so. Have fun.” 

Seth filed that away for the weirdest interaction he’d ever had with a customer service worker, then headed in the general direction of the noise. It didn’t take long to figure out which room it was, given that the sound of familiar cursing was coming from the door at the end of the hall.

He hesitated, then knocked, three quick raps on the poorly painted wood. “Ambrose?” He called when he received no response.

“Fuck off.” Came after a brief delay and Seth had never been so relieved to hear Dean’s voice in his life.

“Hey, fuck you too. You worried the shit out of me and Rome. Least you can do is open the damn door.”

“Not happening.”

Seth rested his forehead against the door, letting out a few quiet curses of his own before he turned, pressing his back to the door and sliding to the ground. “Cool. I’ll wait out here.”   
Seth wasn’t sure how long it took before the door slowly slid inward, causing Seth to fall back. He ended up sprawled on the floor, staring up at a truly pissed-looking Dean Ambrose.

“There. Door’s open. Happy?” Dean growled.

“Not really, but I’ll take it.” Seth rolled over and scrambled to his feet, brushing off his jeans as best as he could. “Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Not really.” Dean parroted back at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean made no motion to get out of the doorway, so Seth pushed past him to enter the room. The first thing that he noticed was the darkness, not a single light illuminating the room. The second thing was the sound of rushing water, and Seth carefully made his way across the room towards the sound, flicking on the light to what turned out to be the bathroom. The source of the sound was easy enough to identify, given that the tank of the toilet was lying in shattered pieces on the ground, water spouting from the pipe mounted to the wall.

“Dude… how the hell did you--”

“Don’t even bother asking. I don’t fucking know.” Dean shrugged, leaning against the door to the bathroom. He let out a tired sigh, and Seth looked over at him, trying to really look this time, to see the cracks in his brother that he’d been apparently blind to. He could see, now, the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, the almost haunted expression that Seth had no idea how it was possible he’d missed. Dean seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable with Seth’s staring, judging by the way he was shifting on his feet and pointedly looking anywhere but at Seth. He eventually fixated on the exposed pipe on the wall and he let out a frustrated noise before elbowing Seth out of the way so he could get on his knees to fidget with it. The water eventually stopped, and Dean made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat before turning over so he was sitting, looking up at Seth with an almost desperate look.

‘’What the hell are you doing here?” He asked again, voice flat in a stark contrast to the wild look in his eyes. 

“I’m here for you, dumbass.” Seth eyed the water pooling on the floor, then sent up a silent prayer for his jeans before carefully maneuvering around the shattered ceramic on the floor so he could sit next to Dean, their backs to the tub. Their sides were pressed together, motel bathrooms not exactly the best place for two wrestlers to try to fit, but they made it work, even with Dean visibly flinching away from the contact. 

“You wanna tell me why you dipped tonight?” Seth finally asked when the silence had stretched on for a moment too long. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Not really any of your business.”

“Bullshit.” Seth retorted immediately. “You’re my business, Dean. Like it or not, we’re kinda stuck together. And you’ve been off since you got back. And fuck it, I’m worried about you, alright? So you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dean was quiet for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling while his fingers toyed idly with a piece of what used to be the tank. “Would you believe me if I said I couldn’t?”

“I mean. No, not really.” Seth reached out to thump Dean on the chest, knowing the other was more comfortable with the slightly more violent signs of affection they were prone to. “C’mon, man. It’s me. You used to talk to me about… everything.” Seth tried, really he did, to keep the hurt out of his voice, but it was so damn hard. He missed Dean, missed how close they’d been, both in their Shield days and during their reign as tag champs. 

“Yeah, well. Things change.” Dean replied, somehow sounding even more tired than he looked. Seth looked back over at him, then, reaching over to loosely clasp Dean’s wrist between his fingers. Dean snapped his hand away almost immediately, but Seth had long enough to feel that his pulse was slower than it should have been, given the anxiety he was obviously feeling. It didn’t add up, and Seth was left with more questions than he’d started the night with.

“They don’t have to. Not with us. I’m still here, right?” Seth finally said.

“Yeah. Yeah you’re still here.” Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just… not tonight, okay? I can’t talk tonight. Maybe… maybe in the morning. But not tonight.”

This time, when Seth reached for him, he didn’t flinch away, and Seth took that as a good sign. Progress. Maybe they’d be alright. Despite the questions, and the rage, and the panic, and everything else that came with it. Maybe they’d be alright.


	4. Chapter 4

Seth ended up borrowing a pair of Dean’s sweatpants, not really wanting to sleep on a shitty motel bed in wet jeans. He didn’t really want to sleep on a shitty motel bed in the first place, but he wasn’t going to leave Dean, too terrified that he’d disappear over the course of the night. So, he found himself lying on a shitty motel bed, lying on his side and facing towards Dean. Dean was propped up against the headboard, obviously not sleeping, but not making any motions to leave either, so Seth took that as a win.

 

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he drifted to sleep, but it wasn’t yet dawn when he found himself waking again. The room was dark, and he could hear Dean’s uneven breathing next to him, but when he tried to move, he found he couldn’t. He felt like he was choking, like the darkness itself was consuming him, swallowing him whole.

 

Seth knew his heartrate was skyrocketing, knew he needed to calm down, but he couldn’t fucking breathe and it was starting to freak him out. Just when he was about to try and cry out, he became aware of movement at the foot of the bed, and he found himself grateful that he couldn’t move. Whatever it was… he didn’t want to draw its attention. The smell of death and decay filled his nose, and he inhaled sharply, holding his breath so he wouldn’t have to smell it again. The thing at the end of the bed moved, then, crawling up the foot of the bed, covering his feet and legs. He could feel weight there, pinning him, keeping him from moving even as it crawled up his body.

 

_ Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies. _

 

Seth wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from, but it was familiar, just at the edge of his mind, like a word on the tip of his tongue, or a face that he couldn’t quite remember. The weight on his legs increased, and he wanted to scream, to wake up Dean, to do anything, but he was helpless.

 

_ Ashes, ashes. _

 

God, but that voice was familiar. He’d heard it before, why was he hearing it now? What was he missing?

 

The weight crawled up to his stomach, pressing down on his solar plexus and moving up to his lungs, slowly cutting off his air supply.

 

Next to him, Dean let out a shudder, then a shout, and Seth swore the weight pressed down on his throat before it all vanished in the blink of an eye. Seth immediately sat up with a shout of his own, scrambling for the light on the nightstand. It flickered on, and Seth threw off the covers, searching the bed for the source of the weight. But there was nothing, just the shitty covers of a shitty motel bed, the dim light of the shitty motel lamp giving Seth no answers. 

 

“Seth?”

 

Seth looked over at Dean, his breath catching in his throat as he saw how completely wrecked his friend looked. He hadn’t been in the best shape earlier that night, but somehow the dark circles under his eyes had grown more pronounced, his pupils blown and chest heaving with the effort of breathing. Seth reached over, loosely clasping Dean’s wrist between his fingers, but there was barely a pulse there, and Seth wanted to ask, wanted so badly to know what the hell was going on. But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t make any noise other than a weak croak that escaped his throat.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, sometimes it’s like that.” Dean just sighed, shifting down so he could lie down flat on his back on the bed next to Seth. He stared up at the ceiling, and Seth stared at him until the knot in his throat slowly loosened. 

 

Seth took a deep breath, then opened his mouth only to close it again immediately. Finally, he managed to find his words again. “What the hell was that?”

 

Dean was quiet, still staring up at the ceiling, and Seth wanted so badly to shake him, to demand answers, to beg for him to make sense of the shitshow that the night had been. But Dean gave no answers, just slowly turned to look over at Seth, a wry grin on his lips. 

 

“You ever make a decision that you instantly regretted?”

 

Seth was reminded, then, of a fateful night years ago. Of the feeling of a cold metal chair in his hands, of the sound it made when it collided with Roman’s back. Of the look of shock on Dean’s face at what must have been the ultimate betrayal, of the feeling of knowing he’d broken an already fragile bond. He was reminded of the immediate regret, the loneliness of the following years, the desperation he’d felt while trying to regain Dean’s trust after his period of atonement.

 

“Yeah.” Seth finally said, releasing Dean’s wrist and shifting so he was laying facing Dean. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about regret.”

 

“Yeah. Me, too.” Dean exhaled, then closed his eyes. “Should be it for the night. Get some sleep. I swear, I’ll talk to you in the morning. Not sure it’ll make anything make sense, but it’s worth a shot.”

 

When Seth looked over at Dean again, Dean was wearing that same wry smile,  and he found himself reaching for Dean again, clasping Dean’s wrist between his fingers before settling back into the bed.

 

The weight didn’t return that night, but that didn’t mean Seth slept well. He kept hearing that same voice in his head, the sound haunting him and forcing his brain to kick into overdrive.

 

_ We all fall down. _


End file.
